


Enchanted

by roryonice



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-03-21 09:16:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13737765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roryonice/pseuds/roryonice
Summary: Daniel Howell, the eldest prince of England has just turned 24 and is about to engage in a Bachelorette-style competition between 100 princes to find himself a suitor. Over the course of the summer, Daniel must choose one of these 100 princes to marry. Let the games begin!





	1. Introduction

“Please welcome the Prince of England, Daniel Howell IV!” an enthusiastic voice shouts through the speakers as I step gracefully down the marble staircase and into the Grand Ballroom. I smile and wave as though there’s no other place I’d rather be as I was taught when I was a very young child, though in reality I’d much rather be playing GTA5 on my PlayStation in my room alone right now.

In exactly three months I’ll be turning 24, which means that it’s time for me to find a fiancée. It’s an old English tradition for the prince or princess to have found another prince or princess to marry by the age of 24, and if they haven’t, a Bachelorette-type competition is held among all of the willing princes and/or princesses in the world to take the English prince’s or princess’s hand in marriage. However, if the prince or princess doesn’t find a suitable partner in the pool of royalty they have to choose from, they’re allowed to find a civilian to marry instead.

Long story short, a whole bunch of princes from around the world are competing to be my husband. This whole thing is televised worldwide, so it’s literally the Bachelorette. Since I’m the first English prince to seek a male partner, this whole competition has been blown way up and I’m basically the fucking sun right now and the princes competing are planets and the rest of the world are little meteorites, all of whom revolve around me. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever been through in my entire life.

Once I’ve reached the bottom of the staircase, I take a seat in the plush chair approximately 10 metres away. The crowd of women in extravagant ball gowns and men in expensive suits all move in to make an aisle from the staircase to my chair. As they’re doing so, I feel as though the walls are caving in on me. I adjust my white and navy suit so it doesn’t cling and make me feel even more claustrophobic.

Tonight is the ball that kicks off the entire competition, but beforehand I have to weed out all of the bad apples from the bunch to narrow down the drawing pool of princes.

The woman in the announcer’s box gives a dumb speech that was written by my father about the history and importance of this competition as well as the rules for the next three months before finally announcing the first contestant, “Starting the competition off with a bang, we have Prince Jaime of Mexico.”

At this moment I take the manila folder that the queen of Mexico, Jaime’s mother, is holding out to me. I take his profile out of the folder and skim over it. He’s quite handsome, but as I look over his answers to the beginning questions, I’m a bit wary about him. Likes: tall, pretty boys named Dan Howell. I roll my eyes as he saunters down the stairs, his dazzling smirk so bright I want to look away.

The princes were all required to bring a gift to boost my first impression of them as tonight is the most important night of the next three months, and as Jaime reaches the third step from the bottom he pulls out a small silk pouch. He bows and kneels before me, handing me the pouch, which I open to reveal a dainty necklace with a white gold chain and a small yet ornate pendant adorned with obsidian and fire opals. “Made of the most valuable treasures Mexico has to offer, though even this has nothing on your exquisite beauty,” he purrs in his admittedly sexy Mexican accent.

While Jaime is arrogant and standoffish and I don’t really like him all that much, I decide that Jaime’s presence may make the competition interesting, so I smile and ring the bell that’s sat on a table directly to my right. The bell signals the fact that the prince will be moving on in the competition. To my left is a harsh-sounding buzzer that indicates elimination from the competition.

The next two and a half hours went quite similarly, with boys trying to flatter me with cliché words and valuable gifts. Most of them appal me, but I can’t be very picky tonight because there are still three more months of competition.

Things don’t begin to get interesting until the fifty-third prince of the night made an entrance. “Now entering is Prince Philip of Finland,” the woman, now sounding quite worn and tired, declares.

Down the steps comes a tall, thin man with a boyish, genuine smile. He’s handsome, but not in the way that all the other men I’ve seen today were. He’s radiating happiness and joy and I’m unable to take my eyes off him. His floppy black hair shines and his pale skin gives off an almost heavenly glow. The blue suit he’s wearing shows off his slim waist and long, thin legs in the most attractive way.

I take his profile excitedly from his mother and, unlike most men that I’ve met tonight, I actually read most of it. Likes: bright colours, red pandas. Hobbies: reading, gardening. I supress a smile and look up from the paper to find that Prince Philip has already made it to the bottom step. He’s carrying a small bouquet of lavender roses in his right hand.

When he kneels before me, I get a whiff of camomile. He hands me the roses with a sweet smile. He looks slightly nervous, and normally that would be a turn-off, but it strikes me as rather sweet since all I’ve seen are arrogant smirks and bored expressions.

“Flowers?” I question. I haven’t received a gift so small all night, though it’s my favourite.

“Sometimes less is more,” he replies, his voice quivering slightly but the smile remaining on his face.

I ding the bell to my right, signalling that he’s moved on, but I keep my gaze on him. As he rises and walks away toward his family, my eyes follow him, even after the announcer has declared the next name.

My mother nudges me from behind and my line of sight snaps away from Prince Philip.

***

It’s another hour before I’m finished meeting all the princes, but after Philip I only glanced at each boy’s file and took their gift before immediately signalling their advancement or elimination

At this time I’m completely drained of energy, so I tell my parents that I’m going to bed.

“Dan, this ball is all about you. You have to stay,” my mother replies, raising her eyebrows at me accusingly.

“I’m tired and I’m not going to dance with anyone, so why should I stay?”

“You can go,” my father says before my mother can detest. “Just make sure to get some rest. No video games.”

My brother, Theodore, frowns. “If Dan gets to go, why can’t I?” he whines.

“Because you aren’t Dan,” my father says sternly, ending the conversation. Theo knows better than to argue with dad once the conversation ends, so he keeps his mouth shut and sulks in silence.

I start off towards the door, taking with me only Prince Philip’s lavender roses and a sandwich before exiting the ballroom.

About halfway down the corridor to the stairs, I see none other than Prince Philip, staring at a piece of paper and looking intensely confused. “Can I help you?” I ask him, watching my tone so as not to come off as rude.

He jumps when I speak, his head snapping up to look at me. “Sorry, I just can’t find my room. I’ve been all over the castle but I can’t seem to figure out the numbering system.”

I take the paper from him and look at the room number. “I’ll show you,” I say.

We start down the corridor to the opposite end and a prince whose name and country I can’t remember calls, “I can’t find mine either!”

“Do I look like a tour guide to you?” I answer, hardly casting him a glance. I roll my eyes and shake my head slightly, cursing the founder of this stupid competition.

“I can find my room on my own if you’d rather not be running all over the castle,” Philip pipes up next to me. “My room seems to be in the opposite direction of your destination.”

I whip my head to the side to look at him, regretting my rude comment. “Oh, no, it’s not a problem!” I assure him. Now he’s probably confused and thinks I’m a terrible person.

We walk in an uncomfortable silence before Phil says, “I didn’t think you’d actually keep my flowers.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” I wonder aloud.

“Well, you didn’t really seem to have much interest in the other things you received but you kept my flowers, which are probably the worst thing you received all evening,” Phil explained, looking at the cold stone ground that our shoes echo upon.

“They’re pretty. They’ll brighten up my bedroom,” I tell him.

He hesitates before saying, “If you want them to last longer, keep them in a cool environment and about 2 centimetres of the stems off before putting a little bit of lemon juice, sugar, and bleach in their water. You can also add a tablet of aspirin to make them stay pretty longer, too.”

I nod in response. By now, we’ve reached his room. I tell him so and he thanks me for showing him and wishes me a good night.

Once I’m back in my room, I do what Philip told me to do with the flowers and I notice a small piece of cardstock wedged in between the petals of one of the roses. I pluck it from its resting place and read it: I hope you aren’t allergic to flowers! Lavender roses signify enchantment, royalty, and wonder. –Phil

I place the cardstock on my bedside table so that I don’t lose it before crawling under my big gray duvet and turn out the light, falling asleep with Phil’s bright blue eyes staining my memory.


	2. 36 Dogs and 34 Dumb Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day of competition begins by weeding out the weak.

The next morning I’m jarred awake by my own enthusiastic mother shaking me and shouting at me to wake up. I groan, “Alright, alright!” and swat my mother’s hands away. “I’m getting up.”

My mum steps away from my bed and grins at me with her hands clasped together. “Aren’t you excited for today? It’s the first day of competition!” she exclaims.

“Not particularly, no,” I reply, squinting at her.

My mum frowns. “Well, you better start to get excited real quick because the camera crews are beginning to arrive. Be downstairs by 10. No later,” she instructs. She places a kiss on my forehead before leaving the room to let me get ready.

I shove off my covers and sigh. I really didn’t want this competition to take place, and I had begged his parents not to make me do it. I don’t like to be the centre of attention, and I also feel bad about turning down all of these men on television in front of the whole world. I would much rather just have a private and quiet relationship of my own, but unfortunately I’m not able to have that until this competition is over with. This competition is tradition, and I have to endure it before I’m able to find a partner that isn’t royalty.

I walk over to my closet and begin to put on a pair of jeans before I remember that I’m supposed to wear a suit. Stupid television crews.

I settle on a simple pale lavender suit and remember the similarly pigmented roses that Prince Phillip had given me last night. I look over to the windowsill where the flowers are sat and see movement outside of the window. I approach the window to investigate the goings-on outside and see the camera crews setting up and preparing to televise the upcoming event. Several of my potential suitors are speaking to news journalists on the brick patio that’s situated with chairs and tables just outside of the palace.

I sigh, not wanting to be a part of the upcoming event, but I know that I have to get through it. I square my shoulders and put on my high-and-mighty guise before opening my bedroom door and stepping out into the hallway.

The watch on my wrist reads 9:56, which means that I’ll be down to the garden just in time for the event to begin.

There is a small pool of people waiting for me near the sliding glass door that leads out to the patio where the majority of today’s crowd is congregated. My mother, a member of this small pool, glances at the clock hanging on the wall and says, “Leave it to Daniel to arrive in the nick of time. So pokey.”

I shrug and grin. “I prefer the term punctual,” I counter. My mum shakes her head but stifles a smile.

“Ready to get out there then, Lad?” my father asks cheerfully. I nod and approach the door while my parents and my brother fall into place behind me. One of our maids, a kind woman named Laura, opens the door for me, and I plaster a grin onto my face as I step outside. 

The camera crews are quick to swing their cameras around to catch me in their line of sight. The crowd on the patio claps as I walk out with my family. I always find it odd when people clap when we enter a room or any type of new space. It seems as though the people clapping are congratulating us for being able to walk a couple metres to our seats.

Big, cushiony chairs have been moved outside for us underneath a towering oak tree to shade us from the sun. It’s an elaborate setup, but the Howell family is nothing if not extra.

My mum, my brother, and I take a seat in our chairs, but my dad lingers at the head of the crowd to explain the event that is about to take place. “Welcome, guests,” he announces in his booming voice. “Thank you all for joining us. Would the 35 remaining suitors please come forward so that I can explain the rules of today’s event?”

Each prince makes his way up front near my father, and several of our palace staff herd them into a group in front of the chairs that are designated for me and my family. Several of them fight to be in the front of the group so that they’re readily on display for me and the cameras. I keep note of these princes so that I can weed them out later.

“The rules for this event are very simple,” my father continues, “and they’re hardly even rules at all. Each prince will be assigned a dog, all of which have all been provided by the RSPCA of South East London, and they are to bond and be able to perform several tricks with their assigned dog by the end of one hour. This event has been chosen because a suitor for Prince Daniel must know how to be soft and loving, but also confident and firm. It is also necessary that Daniel’s suitor enjoys being around dogs as Daniel is a dog lover and has a dog of his own.”

As my father announces that I have a dog, Laura brings out my dog, Cookie, on a leash. Cookie is straining against her leash, anxious to get to me as fast as possible. I can’t resist cracking a wide smile at the sight of my dog, and as soon as Cookie reaches my chair she’s up and lapping at my face with her soft tongue. She was at a boarding centre yesterday because of the ball, so she’s extra excited to see me, and I’m just as excited to see her.

I get Cookie to calm down soon enough and volunteer RSPCA members begin assigning princes with their dogs. I spot Prince Philip at the back of the group of princes and notice that he’s assigned to a corgi. He seems to be very comfortable around dogs, which is definitely a good thing.

Each prince spreads out across the lawn with their dog to practice tricks, and I write down the names of the princes that look like they’ve never seen a dog in their life and have no idea what they’re doing. I don’t know the names of most of the princes, though, so I’ve come up with nicknames for the ones that I don’t know based on what they look like.

I start out paying attention to what each prince is doing, but by the end of the hour I’m really just playing with Cookie. There are judges going around to each pair to determine how many tricks they can do together, so I don’t really need to pay very close attention after the first 10 to 20 minutes.

Once the hour is over, the judges give me their score sheets and it’s time for me to decide who to eliminate. I’m only supposed to eliminate 15 people this round to narrow it down to 20 competitors, but there are quite a few people that I’d like to eliminate, so the decision process takes a little while, and the fact that I don’t know each prince by name or country adds even more time to that process.

After I’ve decided I look up to see that most of the princes have returned their dogs to the RSPCA volunteers, but I notice that Prince Philip is still enjoying his time with the corgi that he’s been assigned to. A small smile tugs at the corners of my mouth and I take note that he’s a dog lover.

I hand the paper that has the list of eliminated suitors on it, and he reads them off one by one. I’ve kept Prince Jaime off the list, even though I would have liked to eliminate him last night. He’s a favourite of many people across the world, though, and he’s definitely going to spice up the competition, so I plan to keep him in until the final two.

***

That evening I sit down with my family in the living room to watch the event back on television. I didn’t get to hear any of the princes’ interviews beforehand, so I’m anxious to hear what they said.

The very first interview that comes on is Prince Jaime. No surprise there. As I watch his interview, I find myself mesmerised by his smooth accent and dark chocolate eyes. It would be false to say that I don’t find him attractive; truly, he looks and sounds like an absolute dream. Once you get to his personality, though, that’s a whole different story. He’s arrogant and rude and stuck-up and I hate him with the fire of 10,000 suns, to put it simply.

His interview lasts a concise minute and a half, but he only talks about how confident he is that he’s going to make me fall for him, blah blah blah. Nothing about how excited he was for the competition or what friends he’s made so far, just that he’s so dreamy and romantic and perfect. Yuck.

The other interviews that I watch feature princes that I don’t recognise and are frankly unmemorable. I’m kind of disappointed that nobody talked to Prince Philip, but I suppose I’ll have plenty of time to get to know him over the course of the summer.

The last eliminated prince has left the palace, the crowd has disappeared, and everyone else has retreated to their own spaces, so I take this rare opportunity of alone time and take Cookie with me up to my bedroom.

She curls up next to me on my bed, her curled tail gently thumping on the bed rhythmically, and I pull my laptop onto my lap and begin to scroll through my various social media dashboards, liking things here and there.

My window is open to let in a bit of fresh air, and all of a sudden I hear the sound of a door closing. I pause my social media activity and strain my ears to listen to what’s going on outside. After a minute or so of silence, I hear the sound of a voice, though I can’t make out what words the voice is saying.

I slide out of bed, my curiosity besting my laziness, and look out the window. It’s dark out, but I can vaguely make out a figure sitting out in the large flower garden that’s beyond the patio at the back of the palace. I can’t imagine why someone would be outside in the garden at this time of night, so I decide to go out and investigate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't specify this in the chapter, but Cookie is a shibe


	3. Fuck Me or Get Fucked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan has a chat with the stranger in the garden

I’m standing in front of the sliding glass door that opens out into the back yard, and suddenly a wave of fear washes over me. I’ve come down to investigate the strange figure that’s sitting in the garden, but I just came to the realisation that I have no idea who this strange person is. Now that I think of it, it’s kind of obvious that I don’t know who this person is since it’s night time, but I didn’t consider the possibility that this person could be dangerous until I’m about to go outside to see who it is.

The thought of telling one of the palace guards instead of investigating myself crosses my mind, but I don’t want to make a big deal out of this if it really is just a maid or someone who belongs in the garden. I decide that, fuck it, I’m just gonna go out there and see who it is. If this person turns out to be dangerous and kills me, then at least I’ll be done with this godforsaken contest to find me a suitor.

I slide the door open gently and step out onto the patio. The patio area is lit up and the lights from the palace provide my venture with a sufficient amount of light until I reach the very back of the yard where the garden is. I can still make out the person in the garden, and it seems that they’re sat pretty close to the entrance.

I try to continue on in the dark, but a few steps into the garden I trip over a rogue stone in the wide grass path that winds its way throughout the rows of flowers and I go sprawling into a bed of poppies.

From my place in the dirt I can’t see the stranger that’s sitting in the garden, but they call out, “Hello?” and I recognise the deep voice as Prince Philip’s.

“Hi,” I respond, heaving myself off the ground. Once I’m on my feet, I can see that Prince Philip has stood up. I brush off my pants, which are spotted with dirt.

Prince Philip sighs and visibly fights off a smile. “You nearly gave me a heart attack,” he says quietly.

“I’m sorry,” I admitted. “What are you doing out here so late at night?”

He blinks and stares at me for a few moments as if contemplating how to respond. “I needed to clear my head, and being outside helps me to do that,” he tells me. I can’t see for sure in the dark, but based on the look on his face, I think that he’s blushing. “What are you doing out here so late?”

I shrug and sit down on the grass. “I was coming to see why you were out here,” I say. Prince Philip remains standing and simply stares at me. “Aren’t you going to sit down?”

He snaps out of whatever daze he was in and sits down next to me criss-cross-applesauce style. “Yeah, sorry,” he mumbles shyly.

We sit in an uncomfortable silence for a while until Prince Philip finally speaks up. “How are you liking the competition so far?” he asks in a desperate attempt to break the silence.

I heave a dramatic sigh before announcing, “I hate it.” He cocks his head as if cueing me to elaborate. “There are several reasons I can’t wait for this competition to be over. The first is that I hate all of the attention it’s drawing to me. You’d think that after 24 years of being on display for the world I would have grown up to crave all of the attention, but I truly resent it. I’ve spent so much of my life in the spotlight that I’m desperate for some part of my life to be purely mine and nobody else’s, and I always hoped that my romantic affairs would be able to be that one thing that I could keep private, but this competition has completely demolished each and every hope that I had for that.”

Prince Philip is now staring at me with a look in his eyes that even in the dark I can identify as pity. “Wow,” he muses. “I never thought that you might be feeling that way, but now that you’ve explained it, I can’t believe that I hadn’t realised how miserable you must be because of this.”

I shake my head and smile mirthlessly. “After 24 years I’ve learned to hide my distaste for being in the spotlight,” I say.

“That’s for sure,” he agrees. He hesitates before inquiring further, “You said that there were several reasons that you want the competition to end. Why else don’t you like it, besides all of the attention?”

I let myself fall backwards on the grass so that I’m lying on my back. I continue, “I feel like the majority of the men that are competing for my hand in marriage don’t actually care about who I am as a person. I feel like most of them only want to marry me for money and status, not because they genuinely feel like they could fall in love with me. For my entire life I’ve been fawned over because I’m rich and powerful and pretty, but nobody’s ever shown much interest in my personality or getting to know me. People only try to ‘get to know me’ because they want a part of my wealth or status, but they don’t actually try to get to know me. They feign interest in me so that I’ll like them and give them money or power or my body or whatever else they want from me, and it’s tiring. I wish that someone would have a genuine interest in me, however little it may be.”

After I’ve said all of this, I realise how whiny and spoiled I sound, but Prince Philip doesn’t seem to care. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of me since he asked me about the competition, and usually this would unnerve me slightly, but his stare isn’t the usual ‘I’m pretending to listen because you’re rich and famous’. He seems to be truly intrigued about what I’m saying, which kind of contradicts what I just said about nobody caring about me.

“Okay then,” he says, “tell me who you really are then. Make me fall in love with you, Prince Daniel.” My eyes widen and his gaze snaps away from my face and he seems as though he’s going to take back what he said. Before he can do that, though, I begin to speak once more.

“Well,” I begin, “You can call me ‘Dan’ instead of ‘Prince Daniel’. I like food, dogs, sleeping, and, however embarrassing it may be, small romantic gestures. I like to do my makeup and paint my nails, although I don’t usually go out in public like that because I’m afraid of what people will say about me.” Prince Philip’s eyes are on me again, and that spurs me to continue. “I don’t have a favourite anything because I like to keep my mind open to all possibilities and not to simply focus on one colour or food or animal because it’s what I’m most comfortable with. It’s for this reason that I don’t really like labels much, either. I don’t want to limit my possibilities by labelling myself as this, that, or another thing.”

Prince Philip nods. “I would love to see your makeup and painted nails sometime if you’re willing to show me,” he remarks. I smile.

I don’t want to seem self-centred or conceited, so I request, “Tell me about you, Prince Philip.”

He sighs and chuckles nervously as he lays back on the grass to mimic my pose. “First of all, you can call me ‘Phil’. Um,” he thinks for a moment, “I’m not really all that exciting, to tell you the truth. I’m kind of shy around new people, I like to garden and play board games, and I really enjoy spending time with my family and the people that I love.”

I gaze at him fondly as he speaks. When he’s finished, he turns to look at me, and I find myself put on the spot and not knowing what to say. I almost always have something to say, but there’s just something about Phil’s eyes that makes my brain short-circuit when I look into them. I can’t even see his eyes very well in the dark, but they have a weird effect on me nonetheless. Panicking, I blurt, “What kind of board games do you like?”

Phil laughs. “My favourite board game is Monopoly, even though I’m not very good at it. You can learn a lot about someone by playing Monopoly with them,” he tells me.

My smile widens naturally. “Let’s play Monopoly sometime, then,” I suggest. Phil laughs again and nods in agreement.

I glance casually down at my watch and realise that it’s almost midnight. “Shit!” I exclaim. “It’s midnight already. I need to go.” The maids always come to my bedroom at midnight to check on me and make sure that I’m in my room safely, and if I’m not there they alert my parents and sound an alarm, which causes the entire palace to come searching for me. It’s happened once before, and I got in a lot of trouble afterwards.

“Oh, alright,” Phil says. “I’m sorry for keeping you out here so late.”

I shake my head. “No, it’s not your fault. I’d love to stay and talk more, but I’m supposed to be in bed by now.” I’m on my feet and I’ve begun to walk out of the garden, and Phil is following me back to the palace.

“Yeah, I understand,” he assures me. I still feel bad for leaving so abruptly, but I don’t want to cause anyone to panic.

Once we reach the palace and step inside, I realise that they haven’t found me missing yet, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I look to Phil, who smiles when he catches me gazing at him. Now that I can see him clearly in the warm glow that the chandelier provides, I take a moment to take in his appearance. He truly is very handsome, and I wish that I had an excuse to stare at him for hours and just drink in every inch of him without seeming like a creeper.

We’re standing quite close to each other, having just stepped inside together, and our close proximity makes my heart beat like I’ve just run a marathon. I glace at the clock on the wall, which reads 12:06, and I begin to step towards the stairs to retreat to my room, but when I look back at Phil, I can’t stop myself from approaching him and planting a quick kiss on his cheek. “Goodnight,” I whisper before spinning around and bounding up the steps.

My heart has begun to beat even faster, if possible, and a sense of relief washes over me once I reach the top floor of the palace where my bedroom is.

My relief is short lived, however, because approaching my bedroom from the opposite end of the hallway is the grouchy maid, Dorothy, who must have been assigned to check on me tonight. Dorothy just loves to get me in trouble, and I can see the evil grin on her face even from halfway down the hall.

“Daniel, what are you doing out so late? You’re supposed to be in bed by now,” she croaks as she gets closer and closer to me. I’ve stopped dead in my tracks just outside my bedroom door. I was so close!

“I, uh, had to go to the bathroom,” I lie.

Dorothy sees through my fib, however. “You have a, en suite bathroom attached to your bedroom, though, Daniel. Why didn’t you just use that one?” she asks, testing how far I’ll go with my lie.

“You know, I don’t have to answer to you, Dorothy. Go ahead and tell my parents that I wasn’t in my bedroom. What are they gonna do, put me in time out?” I sass. Dorothy has always been my worst enemy in this palace, and it’s absolutely hilarious to see her get all worked up.

Dorothy narrows her eyes. “I’m not about to argue with you this late at night, Daniel. Get to bed, now, and I won’t tell your parents.”

“What does it look like I was about to do before you stopped me?” I retort, opening my bedroom door and closing it with a finalising THUD! “Get fucked, Dorothy.”

I giggle at my own comment as I change into my pyjamas and climb into bed. Cookie is curled up at the foot of my bed already and I’m careful not to wake her as I make myself comfortable.

After I turn out the light, I stare up at my ceiling and recap the events of this evening in my head. As I close my eyes and drift off to sleep, a smile remains on my face as I dream about Phil.


	4. Walk, Walk, Fashion, Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third round of competition and things start to get heated between a couple of the contestants.

It’s been a week since the night that I talked with Phil in the garden, which means that it’s time again for another competition.

The competitions won’t continue to be so close together throughout the entire summer, but they’re so frequent right now so that the contestants are narrowed down to give me the chance to really get to know the final two or three contestants before I have to choose who to marry.

So far there are 20 competitors left, and today I’ll be narrowing it down even further to 8. Today’s competition requires quite a bit of prep work, which is why there was a week in between this round and the last round.

Today’s set consists of a stage with a runway attached in the back of the yard towards the garden and many rows of chairs on the patio for the audience. There’s also a curtain-concealed backstage area for the contestants to congregate leading up to their turn onstage since they’re going to need to be out of the public eye while they’re preparing.

As the set is being staged, a few of the princes have come out to help the crew get everything placed, and two of those princes are Prince Philip and Prince Jaime. This round is in the backyard of the palace once again, so I’m able to see everything from my bedroom window. I’m only partly ashamed to admit that I was definitely checking out both Prince Philip and Prince Jaime. As much of an asshole as Prince Jaime is, he’s very easy on the eyes. Now, though, the set is almost ready, and the crews have gone to take a break.

I watch everyone file back into the palace for their break as they chat amongst themselves, but I notice that neither Prince Philip nor Prince Jaime have followed the others inside.

Prince Philip is idly gazing at some of the flowers in pots on the patio when Prince Jaime approaches him. The two don’t usually interact much with each other, so I open my window and strain my ears to hear their conversation.

“So,” Prince Jaime begins, “how are you feeling about today’s competition?”

Prince Philip looks up from the flowers with a surprised look on his face. “Uh, alright, I guess,” he replies. He seems to be just as bewildered as I am about why Jaime is talking to him.

Prince Jaime takes a step closer to him and I really have to strain to hear what he says next. “You know that you aren’t actually going to win this, right? There’s absolutely no way Dan is ever going to choose you to marry him.” Phil simply blinks at him, and I’m too far away to read his facial expression. “I mean, you gave him a bouquet of flowers at the opening ceremony. Who cares about a couple of roses? Not to mention that you’re from Finland. I barely even knew your country existed!”

“Why are you telling me this?” Phil wonders softly. Even from this distance, I’m able to recognise the tone in his voice as hurt.

Jaime shrugs. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get your hopes up. I wouldn’t want your heart to get broken, though I’m sure it’s too late for that, huh?” he says. “I’ve seen the way that you look at Dan. You’re already head-over-heels for him, aren’t you?” Jaime shakes his head. “It’s so sad to see your precious little heart get shattered, but it’s bound to happen, you know.”

Phil takes a deep breath. “I came here knowing that I wasn’t going to be chosen. I knew from the very beginning that I wasn’t going to end up marrying Dan, but I’m here and I’m trying anyways. It’s not any of your business whether my heart gets broken or not, so I would appreciate it if you would just shut your damn mouth and leave me alone.”

Prince Jaime takes a step back. “Alright,” he nods. “I see how it is. I’ll make sure you get an invitation to mine and Dan’s wedding.” With that, he walks away, his lips formed into a smirk.

***

Later this afternoon as I’m waiting for the competition to begin, it takes all of my energy not to walk right up to Prince Jaime and beat the shit out of him.

I’m still seething with rage from his exchange with Phil earlier in the day, both because of the cruel words that he directed at Phil and also because of the fact that he actually thinks I want anything to do with him, much less marry him.

The entire audience, including each of today’s competitors, are sitting behind me, so at least I don’t have to worry about whether or not I’m glaring at him throughout the entire round.

My parents and my brother are sitting next to me, and Cookie is laying on the ground at my feet. I think they can all sense that I’m angry, but my family probably thinks that I’m just resentful of the competition. I am, in fact, resentful of the competition, but that’s not the reason that I’m angry today. I debate whether or not I should talk to my family about Prince Jaime’s behaviour, but I decide not to since I don’t want to cause a lot of drama. I need to keep Jaime in the top two anyways, so it wouldn’t do much good to start complaining about him now.

Once everyone is settled in and all of the camera crews are ready to go, my father stands up to explain the rules. “Thank you all for tuning in to today’s competition,” my father prefaces. “Today’s competition focuses on something that is very important to Daniel: fashion. Each of the twenty competitors was given one week to prepare an outfit that he deems appropriate for a night out, and he is to model his outfit and be judged upon four categories: function, overall cohesion, style, and whether it suits Daniel’s preferences. Daniel takes fashion very seriously and it is something that he’s very passionate about, so it’s very important that his husband is able to appreciate that.” He looks in my direction and smiles. “Now, I would like each of the competitors to make their way backstage to prepare their outfits.”

My father sits down in his seat next to my brother and we wait for about 10 minutes for each contestant to prepare. There are camera crews backstage that are interviewing princes as they prepare, but my parents have forbidden them from interviewing me during competition, which I’m very thankful for. I don’t have to worry about them until after the round is finished, but even then it’s too much.

The first to emerge is Prince Amir of Pakistan. He’s wearing navy blue dress pants with a white, pink-trimmed dress shirt paired with gold earrings and a gold bracelet. He looks very nice, and from what I’ve noticed he seems to be fairly kind, so I give him a good score and decide to keep him in the top 8.

As the competition goes on, I notice that most of the princes have very bad taste in clothing. They’ve all tried to go for a simple-yet-elegant look, but a lot of them are just turning out boring. There are few with patterned clothes and most are sticking to white, black, and shades of gray.

When Prince Jaime comes out, I hate to admit that he looks stunning. He’s wearing a dressy turquoise v-neck with white chinos that are rolled up just above his ankle. The v-neck is short sleeves and shows off his muscular arms very nicely, and I cringe at myself for eyeing his ass in his tight chinos. A gold chain necklace with a Lady of Guadalupe pendant hangs around his neck and a gold Rolex watch on his wrist glints in the afternoon sunlight. If only he wasn’t a complete asswipe, I think to myself. He truly looks amazing, and judging by his seductive smirk in my direction when he reaches the end of the runway, he knows it.

There are a few more princes after him who are just as boring as the majority of their predecessors, and the last prince to emerge is Prince Philip.

Prince Philip’s outfit is a close contender with Prince Jaime’s. He’s wearing a burgundy suit and a white undershirt with a dark blue tie, and he looks like pure sex. His hair is pushed up into a short quiff and he’s wearing black glasses, but the best part about the entire outfit is his five o’clock shadow. I hadn’t noticed it this morning since I was too far away from him, but now that he’s closer to me the light stubble on his jaw is very prominent. It’s not until Phil reaches the end of the runway and smiles at me sheepishly that I realise my mouth is hanging open. I snap my mouth shut and wipe subtly at my chin just in case I was drooling.

I recover as quickly as I can because I’m not supposed to let on who I want to win until August 30, the date that I’m due to choose a prince to be my husband. I pray that the cameras didn’t catch me, but my family sure did.

Theo, who’s sitting next to me, nudges my arm with his elbow and smirks. “Someone’s getting a little hot and bothered, huh, Big Brother?” I kick his ankle and glare at him.

***

Once I’ve finished scoring each prince, my dad announces who’s going to be leaving and who will be moving on. Prince Jaime and Prince Philip are staying in the competition, obviously, but I also chose the princes from Pakistan, Korea, Italy, Mali, Burundi, and Laos to move on as well.

I dread the questions from the camera crews, especially after my reaction to Prince Philip, so I tell my parents that I’m not feeling well and escape to my bedroom.

My bedroom has become my safe haven this month I realise as I flop down on my bed. Before this whole competition I never had a reason to hide from anyone so I usually stayed out in the living area or in the palace kitchen, but now I have people to hide from.

Cookie follows me onto my bed and nudges my hand with her head, silently asking me to pet her. I stroke her head absentmindedly as I think about what this whole matchmaking ordeal means for me. Before my 24th birthday I was free to do what I wanted and I didn’t have to worry much about anything, but this competition is going to bring me more than a husband. It marks the end of my childhood and the beginning of my adulthood. I haven’t realised before now that soon I’m going to become the king of England. I’m going to have to start preparing to take on that responsibility sooner rather than later, and I’m not anywhere close to ready for it.

Throughout my childhood I had anxiously awaited my 24th birthday, excited for adulthood, but now that it’s here, I realise that it’s bringing me a hell of a lot more than I bargained for.


	5. I Just Can't Wait to be King (not)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan and his father discuss what it means to be the King of England

“Prince Daniel, how was your lesson?” Laura, my favourite of our palace staff, asks me as I walk out of my father’s office. My father has recently decided to give me a lesson each day about becoming king and how to handle the responsibilities that come with it, and I’m over it. It’s only been 2 days and I already want to throw myself into a volcano to avoid becoming king.

“Boring as hell,” I answer. “My father also wants to have some sort of discussion with me tonight, but I’m not looking forward to it. If I told him that I was feeling sick would you cover for me?”

Laura laughs and looks at me sympathetically. “Daniel, you need to start thinking about becoming king. I know that it’s daunting, but it’s unavoidable,” she says. “It’s also very nice of your father to be as willing to help you as he is. His father never helped him, you know. Your father was cast into the throne with no knowledge of how to be king. It’s very kind of him to not do the same for you.”

I knew that my father hadn’t had much experience before becoming king, and I am glad that I won’t be in the same boat as him, but that doesn’t make me any more willing to meet with my father. Why do adults always try to make you feel guilty and ungrateful?

I simply nod in response and retreat to my bedroom to mentally prepare myself for this evening. It’s already one o’clock in the afternoon and my father is coming to get me at eight, which means that I’m on a time limit.

My mental preparation consists of eating an entire bag of crisps while playing video games until my father knocks on my bedroom door at 8 o’clock. I have to say, I thought my efforts would pay off more than they did.

I stand up and brush off the crumbs that fell onto the front of my shirt throughout the afternoon, not feeling any better about my meeting with my father than I did earlier in the day.

After heaving a great sigh, I walk over to the door and open it up to reveal my father clad in a crisp black suit. My father hadn’t told me to dress up, but judging by his appearance and the look on his face, my sweatpants and grease stained t-shirt weren’t fit to his standards.

“I’ll go change quick,” I tell my father after seeing his disgusted facial expression. He nods in agreement and I close the door to change.

Slacks and a slightly wrinkled button-up shirt make up the outfit that I settle on, and they seem to please my father enough for him not to make a comment about my appearance. “Shall we go, then?” he suggests. I nod and exhale quietly, trying to make the tension leave my body along with my breath. It didn’t work.

I follow my father downstairs and out to the garage, where he chooses the car closest to the door and climbs into the front seat. I accompany him in the passenger’s seat and we sit in silence as we leave the driveway of the palace and drive off into the city of Cambridge.

As we drive I wonder where exactly my father plans to take me, but I decide not to ask him because I figure that if he wanted me to know where we were going he would have told me by now. My father doesn’t like it when people ask too many questions, and I get the feeling that now is not the time to test his patience.

After driving for roughly twenty minutes, we’ve reached the outskirts of the city and neither of us has said a word. Another ten minutes of silent driving sees us in the countryside.

Seemingly out of nowhere, my father pulls over to the side of the road and stops the car. He opens his car door and steps outside. I follow his actions and step out into the warm late June air. There are no other people as far as the eye can see, and the only thing lighting the dark night around us are the headlights of our car.

My father has wandered off the road into a field and he’s taken a seat on the ground. I walk over and sit next to him. He’s looking off into the distance and gazing at the faint lights of Cambridge. I wonder what this is all about. As if on cue, my father begins to speak. “Look around yourself, Daniel,” he instructs. I do as he tells me and turn my head around to look on each side of me. “What do you see?”

“Darkness,” I respond truthfully. I can’t see much of anything due to the time of night.

My father chuckles. “I suppose I should have expected that answer from you. Think about what you saw on our way out here, and imagine what you would be able to see now if it were light out.”

I think for a few moments. There were lots of buildings, cars, and a couple people walking outside when we were in Cambridge, and once we left the city limits there were houses and pastures with animals. “I see life all around me, Father.” I tell him.

“Exactly,” he responds. He turns to me and continues, “You are a very smart boy, Daniel, and I know that you know that being the King of England is a huge responsibility. There is a lot that you have to think about when you’re king, but the most important thing to know is that your actions are going to affect real people. I brought you out here tonight to show you that England isn’t just a piece of land that you rule over. England is a place in which life occurs, and everything that you do is going to affect many, many lives. Before you become king, I want to make sure that you realise that. There are many leaders that see their kingdom as simply numbers, and those leaders are the worst leaders. I want you to be a good leader. I want you to be the type of leader that sees those numbers and connects them to the faces of real people and to all of the lives that are taking place here in England, and I know that you’re capable of it.”

I’m not sure how to respond, so I simply continue to look at him. The headlights of the car reflect slightly off of his kind brown eyes, and I feel my own eyes begin to water. I hate crying in front of my father, so I look down and try to blink the tears back into my eyes.

My father reaches out and places his hand on my shoulder. “Tell me what’s wrong, Dan,” he says.

“I’m afraid,” I reply softly.

“Afraid of what?” he presses gently. His voice is delicate and soothing, and it wraps around me like a warm hug. My father’s voice has the power to make anyone feel safe and welcomed, and I aspire to be the same once I take his place.

I take a deep breath and release it before I answer him. “I’m afraid that I’m not going to be as good as you. I’m afraid that I’m not going to be able to handle the responsibility and I’m afraid that I’m going to fuck up our country.” Quieter, I add, “I’m afraid of you leaving me.”

Now my father’s arms have taken over the embrace that his words initiated. My father doesn’t hug me often, and now that he is it’s enough to make all of my self-control crumble. He smooths his hands up and down my back as I cry into his shoulder and whispers reassuring words into my ear. “I know it’s scary, Dan, I know. But I also know that you’re capable of being great. I know that you can handle being king. You’re so much stronger than you know, Daniel. I believe in you and your abilities wholeheartedly.”

I only allow myself to cry for a few minutes before I lift my head off my father’s shoulder and his arms fall away. “Thank you, Dad,” I say.

My father smiles and nods. “I love you, Dan. I know that you’re going to be a great king. Try not to worry too much, okay?”

I nod in response. “I love you too, Dad.”

He ruffles my hair and grins before rising from the grass and trotting back to the car with me not far behind him.

We drive back to the palace in silence, and it gives me time to think about the time that I spent with my father this evening. I haven’t had the chance to spend a lot of time with him throughout my life since he’s been so busy with his royal duties, but I’ve always gotten the feeling that he wishes we could spend more time together. He tries to stay as involved in my life as he can be, and I’ve always wondered if I’ll be able to stay as involved as he’s in my own children’s lives when I’m a father.

Once we’ve reached the palace, my father gives me one more quick hug before we part ways to go to our respective bedrooms. It’s only about 9:30, but I decide to go right to sleep once I reach my bedroom. I need time to recharge sufficiently before tomorrow morning, and I’m never allowed to sleep past 10 in the morning, thanks to Dorothy.

Cookie is curled up at the foot of my bed as usual when I crawl under my covers. I turn out the lights and my father’s words reassure me as I fall asleep that everything is going to turn out alright, and for once, I really believe it.

**Author's Note:**

> speech is fucking me dry right now, but why not start a new series even though i'm not going to have time to update it regularly!


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